


Bunny Tail

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: The things you do to put yourself through art school...but will Sasori get a happy ending?
Relationships: Sandaime Kazekage | Third Kazekage/Sasori
Kudos: 7





	Bunny Tail

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is probably the most sleazy thing I've written XD
> 
> It was inspired by a pic of Sasori dressed as a playboy bunny by the lovely shipcat! And is a submission for the MultiSasoriMonth2021, hosted on Tumblr. Do check it out!

Black lycra slipped over two porcelain feet, then dragged up shins and calves, over knees, and supple thighs. It formed perfectly over his derrière, and then Sasori tugged it further up, over his belly, his chest, slipping his arms through two holes, before it moulded perfectly against his form.

The accessories were next - cuffs on his wrists, a bow tie and collar for his neck, stockings up his legs, garters on his thighs, a powder puff tail, and then soft ears that draped over his shoulders. Sasori settled them into his thick red hair, patting it all into place.

Tonight, he was a bunny.

Sasori bared his teeth at himself in the mirror. He turned around, from side to side. Before he’d left for work, he’d exfoliated and applied cream down his legs, and then up to his thighs, his hips and buttocks. Now it gleamed in the bathroom light, giving him an luminescent sheen.

The music began to throb through the walls, the bass thrumming and causing the mirror to vibrate. Sasori narrowed his eyes distastefully, before placing his normal clothes in his locker.

All this so that he could one day call himself a master of arts. All because Granny wouldn’t give him his inheritance while he was a student. That damn old bat.

Pulling on his heels for the evening, Sasori made his way out of the changing rooms and into the club, where he met with his supervisor for the evening. Tonight, they were expecting a visit to the VIP lounge, from a group of businessmen, and they wanted Sasori to be the waiter for the night.

How  _ dull _ .

Sasori picked up his tray, and filled each glass to the brim with champagne. At least no one from his course or his tutors or his grandmother would ever see him working here. Sasori could only laugh at the thought of Granny’s face if she saw his little bunny costume.

The first customers that Sasori offered the tray of drinks to were a group of giggling girls on a hen night. He narrowly bit back a sarcastic quip regarding poison, before reloading, moving on, finding the second set of customers, reloading once more. This was his task for the night. Look cute. Walk around. Offer drinks.

In his head, Sasori turned his mind back to his thesis. He imagined the words he would write for the next chapter, the next books he would pull out of the library for further study, the sources he would weave into his argument. He thought of his creative artefact that would go alongside his thesis, the materials, the techniques, where he would find them.

Sasori felt the music grow to a quiet buzz as he thought of his projects, and suddenly, this night became bearable.

“Champagne?” he drawled, as the third set of patrons strode in.

“Good evening,” a low voice drawled in response.

Sasori caught himself, realising he was slumping, before peering up beneath his red hair and one stray bunny ear.

This had to be the group of businessmen that his supervisor had warned him of. There was a group of...say ten of them. Sasori swallowed, remembering that he was to be their waiter for the night. He had to guide them to the lounge, settle them, and bring them drinks.

But the man gazing down at Sasori, the third customer he’d spoken to, wore his dark navy hair back in a topknot, and a white three piece suit with a sky blue shirt. Each piece of clothing complimented his natural colouring, and he carried himself well, with an aura of natural confidence. Sasori was thrown off guard, he hadn’t expected this poised man in a cocktail club.

“The VIP lounge?” Sasori managed to stammer out. His cheeks were growing pink, as he realised he had been caught out. Caught out in his daydreams once again.

The man’s yellow eyes twinkled. “Yes please.”

“This way.”

Sasori let them follow him, knowing that their eyes all fell on his pert little fluffy tail. Interestingly, he did not feel the weight of their stares as much as he did of the third customer. Usually, he did not care if people decided to stare at him in his outfit. That’s what it was there for. Sasori was paid to be looked at. Like art.

So that he could fund  _ his  _ art.

Think of the art.

He unclipped the barrier leading to the VIP Lounge, and gestured for them to enter. After they had all filed in, Sasori followed, to find them settling around the table. They seemed happy enough to be seated, and so Sasori accepted their coats, and stored them in the cloakroom beside the entrance to the lounge. He couldn’t help but stroke the lapel of the white suit jacket that the third customer had offered him, as he straightened it on the hanger.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Sasori peered back up. “Yes.”

Yellow eyes twinkled down at him, and a genial smile curved across the man’s lips. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing?”

“Sir?” asked Sasori. No one had ever called him sweet before.

The yellow eyes twinkled once more. “Cat got your tongue?”

Sasori swallowed. Truthfully, his tongue felt like lead and he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he picked at his sleeve. “More like a bunny.”

“A bunny! Of course. How sweet,” crooned the man.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” asked Sasori, knowing very well that he needed to get back to work, especially if he wanted a decent tip. That was one of the perks of the job, if he could tolerate smiling enough, then he could get a decent tip. And then he could spend that tip however he wished. It mostly went on rent and his university fees, but when there was enough left over...Sasori had his eye on some lovely glass eyes he wanted to buy for his creations.

The third customer eyed him. “You best not ignore my companions.”

Back on the table, the group had almost finished their complimentary champagne. How greedy. Sasori knew that if he had downed that much champagne he would be rolling on the floor. The curse of being petite.

Reluctantly, he left the nice suit jacket, the intriguing man, and went to serve drinks. Another man sat hunched over his phone, frantically texting a woman. Sasori caught sight of her picture in the man’s contacts - blonde, with a small pigtailed child on her lap.

A husband in a place he shouldn’t be.

Sasori stored away that piece of information for later.

He scribbled down orders, taking it to the small minibar where the bartender made up each drink. Sasori settled them all on a tray, plastered a wider, brighter smile on his features, sourly wishing each drink was poison, and then carried it over to the table.

The Wife Guy quietly accepted his bourbon, and sipped at it meditatively. He checked his watch, his phone, before reluctantly sipping. It seemed as if this consumption of alcohol was little more than civic duty. Now Sasori could empathize. He would have rather been painting.

Sasori leant over the man, handing him a glass of whiskey. The fluorescent lights in the VIP Lounge concealed his flush, as Sasori chided himself for his reaction.

And yet even as Sasori strode away, he glanced in the mirrors, to notice the man lifting his whiskey on the rocks in a gesture of thanks, before he even took a sip. Skittish, Sasori jolted out of the lounge, back into the club, running back behind the bar to the staffroom to calm his nerves.

“Someone else can tend that group in the VIP Lounge,” he snapped, slumping down onto one of the seats. He flicked off his heels by flexing his feet, and then propped them up on the coffee table to ease the pressure on his ankles.

“Are they a little rowdy?” asked his supervisor.

“No, I just don’t want to work in that area tonight,” insisted Sasori.

The red flush had made its way down his cheeks, his neck and now his chest. It felt warm, throbbing, and probably looked unsightly.

“Why not? If they’re not rowdy and giving you grief, you’ll be in chance of a great tip,” shrugged his supervisor. “And I’ve assigned where everyone is working already.”

Sasori swallowed, wishing that his flaming face would cool. He touched a cold glass, and then laid his cooled fingers to his cheeks. Even so, his hammering heart didn’t decrease in pace, continuing to thump.

Think of the art.

The minutes ticked down until the end of his break. Sasori stood up, and fitted his feet back into his heels, adjusting his leotard and bunny tail. He made his way back to the VIP Lounge, where the Wife Guy was doing the difficult dance of holding his phone to his ear while trying to put his coat back on.

“Yes, sweetheart, I’m on my way, no need to put her to bed without me...I don’t mind if you make a start on bath time...I’ll be home after...I’ll read her the story she likes, the one with all the ducks…”

Wife Guy hurried out, one coat sleeve on, the other flapping. Sasori watched him go with raised eyebrows. Mercifully, the group had somewhat shrunk in size, and their evening had met the midnight slump, as some made excuses, some grew sleepy and content with alcohol, and some still burst with energy, trying to rattle up the sleepier members of the party.

“Nice break?” asked the man.

Sasori’s breath caught in his throat.

The third customer sat sipping at his whiskey, watching Sasori appreciatively.

Sasori felt his tongue swell once more, and his body quivered. But he stilled himself, settling his nerves, while asking himself what he truly wanted.

“Can I get you anything else to drink?” asked Sasori, leaning across and collecting empty glasses. He dumped the glasses at the bar, before circling around the room again. More of the group were sloping off, to the restrooms, to dance, to make phone calls, leaving Sasori alone with his new companion.

“Don’t  _ you  _ want anything to drink?” asked the third customer.

Sasori glanced sideways at the rest of the group.

“They can go to the bar,” said the third customer, responding to Sasori’s internal thoughts. He leant back against the cushion of the sofa. “They will if they see that you’re talking to me.”

Sasori felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. Who was this man? He had to be someone powerful. Authoritative.

He settled down on the seat beside the man, as they eyed one another. The make of his suit was fine, well crafted, just like his jacket. He was wealthy, then. That didn’t matter to Sasori, not in the way that it did to his friend Kakuzu. But it was interesting. It told him a few things he needed to know.

“Are you having a good night?” asked Sasori.

The man sipped at his whiskey, before laying it back on the table with a clunk. “Are you?”

No one ever asked Sasori that at work. Sasori bit back his response, but the man laughed softly.

“It’s ok, I know you’d rather be somewhere else.”

“No,” Sasori shook his head, the bunny ears flapping. “Here is fine. It pays my bills. I can buy paints-”

“Paints?”

“I’m an art student. Masters,” explained Sasori.

The third customer moved one of the bunny ears away so that he could see Sasori’s face. “Hmm, yes. You look dreamy. You seem like the artist type.”

Sasori felt the bunny ear pushed back over his shoulder, and allowed himself to bask in the man’s yellow gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more of the group leaving, more clustering around the bar, and a wedge of notes shoved at the girl working behind the bar. Sasori swallowed, and realised that, really, he didn’t care about the money. All he wanted was to sit and talk about his art.

“I’m writing my master's thesis on art puppetry,” Sasori went on, crossing his legs. “And when I’ve got that, I’ll apply for a doctorate to continue with my studies.”

“And will you still be here?” asked the man.

“Depends if I manage to persuade the art department to pay for it and invest in me.”

“They should,” said the third customer, reaching forwards again, this time tucking excess red hair behind Sasori’s ear, and tilting up his chin. “You’re clever...as well as beautiful. Now, now, don’t blush.”

It was no good. More red spooled into Sasori’s cheeks, and he swallowed, his eyes downcast.

“Why don’t you go and get yourself something to drink?” suggested the third customer. “And put it on my tab.”

Sasori climbed up, and wandered to the bar. He pushed through the pack of other men to hiss at the bartender. “Get me a martini and make it snappy. And the gentleman over there said to put it on his tab.”

Gleefully, he carried back their drinks, and settled them on the table, before curling closer to his companion. The bunny tail pressed against the back of the seat, and he wriggled, trying to get comfortable. Further forward, and he was almost dangling off the seat. Further back, and it pressed against his buttocks annoyingly.

“Here,” said the man, and his hands wrapped around Sasori’s waist, lifting him up, before settling him onto his lap. “Better?”

Sasori wriggled. He felt the man’s sturdy thighs beneath him. “Better,” he conceded. His little bunny tail bounced as he leant forwards against the man’s chest. When was the last time someone had held him? It had been too long. Sasori lived alone, studied alone, and worked alone. It was only times like these when he realised just how badly he missed…

Touch.

Sasori deeply inhaled the scent of the man’s skin, his gentle masculine scent, and watched as he picked up his whiskey, taking a sip. He picked up Sasori’s martini, offering it to him, and Sasori sipped, contemplatively.

Something had moved him deeply.

There was more laughter, chatter from across the room. Sasori peered up, annoyed.

“They won’t bother us,” said the third customer.

“What do you do?” asked Sasori.

“What do you think I do?”

“Tell me,” insisted Sasori.

The man’s eyes twinkled. “I’m the CEO.”

“Thought so,” taunted Sasori, wriggling again. His bunny tail brushed against the man’s hip, and he felt the man roll his hips at the contact.

“What made you think so?”

“When you told me to put everything on your tab and the others wouldn’t bother us,” said Sasori. He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I’ve worked here long enough.”

“You’re cute.”

“Is this what you always wanted to do?” asked Sasori.

“What do you mean?”

“Chief Executive Officer. Is that what you always wanted to be?”

“Well, admittedly when I was a kid, I wanted to be a cat. They just live their best lives.”

“Now, you’re cute,” said Sasori.

“No one has called me cute in many years,” said the third customer. There was another roar of laughter at the bar, as the other men toasted one another. “Especially not by someone dressed in an adorable little bunny costume.”

Sasori wanted to say more, but was interrupted by another burst of laughter from the group. If only there was a quieter spot that he and the third customer could get to know each other. There were private rooms for lap dances, but Sasori was no dancer. Just a waiter.

“Is there anywhere more quiet?” asked the man.

“The private rooms,” explained Sasori, curling against his new friend. He felt his cheeks redden once more. “For...private shows.”

The man suddenly looked a mixture of amused, and intrigued. He held Sasori out in his arms. “Oh? And is that what you do? Private shows?”

Sasori shook his head, hair and bunny ears shaking. “No, I’m just the waiter. I show you to the VIP Lounge, I bring you drinks, take them away again…”

“All the while dreaming of your art projects.”

“All the while dreaming,” admitted Sasori.

There was an uproar of laughter, from the group of men. One of their phones showed a Facetime call of an angry Wife Guy, clutching the small toddler as she pulled at his hair.

“It’s BEDTIME!” he barked. “I’m putting my baby to BED! I am NOT coming back out!”

“Let’s go someplace quiet,” agreed Sasori. He took the third customer’s hand in his, the larger fingers closing around his pleasingly. They felt warm against his cool hands, and he led the man to where the private rooms were. They were smaller, but sealed off from the rest of the VIP Lounge for privacy. The walls were soundproofed, so that the occupants could enjoy their alone time together.

That was what they wanted.

The man settled back on the couch, laying their drinks on a table in front that doubled as a stage for dancing. Briefly, Sasori wondered where he ought to sit, but the man solved the problem, by patting his thigh. Sasori perched down in the comfortable spot, fighting the urge to curl up closer, to snuggle against the man’s chest.

“Look at your fluffy little bunny tail,” the man squeezed it. “So soft and adorable.”

“I’m soft and adorable?” Sasori wriggled his tail.

“Very soft and adorable. I’ve been wanting to touch your skin all night.”

“No one is here. Why don’t you?”

The man’s hand slowly released his tail, and stroked down the exposed skin of Sasori’s buttocks, his haunches. No one had ever caressed him like that, and the sensation was overwhelming. Sasori wanted more, and so he leant forwards, leaning against the table, letting the man absorb the full view of his body.

“You like it?” the man asked gently.

Sasori nodded, even though he was still pink. He supposed it didn’t matter. He’d blushed more times than he cared too this evening and was still standing.

At least he was having a little fun now.

The man pushed his leotard into the crevice between his buttocks, giving himself more area to caress. Sasori leant back into his hold, arching his back like a little cat, enjoying each and every touch.

His eye caught on a forgotten bottle, just below the seat of the sofa. Lubricant.

Some of the other staff slept with the patrons, and received bigger tips. Sasori did not care for that. He didn’t care for the money, not now, not  _ anymore _ . It was the feeling, the sensation, that was rising in him, something dormant that he hadn’t thought existed in his body, that urged him on for this occasion. He grinded backwards against the man, letting his tail twitch, his ears flap, craving more of the gentle caresses.

Fingers slipped under the leotard, picking it aside now, so that his entire buttocks were on display.

“May I?” asked the man.

Sasori glanced over his shoulder, his ears draping across his back, to realise that he was being watched with those yellow eyes.

“Would you like to?” the man asked again.

The power was all in Sasori’s hands.

He nodded, and then clamoured up onto the table, reaching down, for the forgotten bottle of lubricant. He scooped it up, and then slammed it down on the table in front of the man. Sasori locked his eyes onto him. “Yes. I would.”

One finger pressed against the ring of muscle. Sasori relaxed, accepting the penetration. It tingled as it passed through, and he squeezed and unsqueezed around the finger. The man gave a soft laugh, before pressing the second finger in, loving how Sasori responded to his touch.

It didn’t take long until Sasori clamoured up, bending over the table, showing himself off for the man. He spread his legs, let the man tug his leotard completely over to the side, over his buttocks, felt the man squeeze and massage and caress each cheek, spreading him wider open than ever before.

A warm chest pressed against his back. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” whined Sasori. “Put it in, goddamnit!”

The man nibbled at Sasori’s ear. “You really want it?”

Sasori arched his back, lifting his hips against the man’s groin. “Yes!”

He laid his face down against the table as the man began to fill him up. Sasori groaned softly with pleasure at the girth, at hand on his back holding him steady, the other hand on his buttocks holding him open. This felt good, it was good, it was what Sasori needed. Once the man was fully inside of him, he laid both hands on Sasori’s hips, and began to lightly pump back and forth, back and forth.

Sasori let each and every whimper and moan escape from his lips, shimmying up as need be to claim further pleasure. He groaned against the table, as the man panted against his ear enthusiastically, and Sasori felt him push his leotard as far away as possible, exposing as much soft skin as he could. Something cold and hard slid against his skin, pushed up under the lycra, but then Sasori forgot about it, as another roll of pleasure waved through him.

His ears flopped over the table, and he moaned against the shiny surface. Their drinks lay abandoned, as they lost themselves to pleasure instead.

Sasori didn’t know how long they had been there, until there was a tingling sensation in his groin and he knew he couldn’t take it much longer. He gasped, his whole body jerked, and then he exhaled deeply, as he felt a magic spot inside of him be pushed over the edge. The man gave a heavy groan as he pumped Sasori full, and then they both collapsed over the table, breathing rapidly.

The man stroked Sasori’s hair back off his forehead, jostling his bunny ears.

“How...how was it?” Sasori gently lifted himself up onto his elbows, and turned his head sideways.

“It was nice,” the man patted his bottom approvingly. “You were lovely. Very sweet.”

Slowly, reluctantly, they extracted their bodies from one another. The man patted Sasori’s leotard back into place, while Sasori zipped up his trousers for him. As Sasori stood back on his feet he felt shaky, as if every muscle in his body had been exercised and worn out. As they opened the door to the private room, the music had stopped, and it was quiet. A cleaner raised her eyebrow at Sasori, as he pattered out the room. Sasori simply glowered in response, her presence an unwelcome intrusion to his rendezvous.

At the bar, the man paid the tab for the rest of the party, and then turned to Sasori.

“This isn’t for the sex,” he murmured, so that the bartender couldn’t hear. “The hospitality. Buy yourself some art stuff. I want to see what you can do.”

Several notes were tucked into the top of Sasori’s leotard, and he felt the man’s fingers brush against his warm chest. The man gave a small cheeky grin, and then lightly tweaked one of Sasori’s nipples through the leotard. Nerves shot through the little teat, back down to Sasori’s groin, and he felt another jolt of pleasure through his entire body.

“I should get changed,” muttered Sasori, suddenly realising that he was hot and sticky. He probably looked a mess, with dishevelled hair and lopsided bunny ears.

“Goodnight, cutie,” said the third customer, lifting up his chin to look at him. “Will I see you again?”

“I hope so,” admitted Sasori, even as he turned on his heel, running back to the changing room. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion, and he knew he needed to get some sleep before his class tomorrow. Would he see his third and final customer again? Sasori realised that he did not even know his name, that he had slept with a complete stranger in a club, that this behaviour was so unlike him. What had he been thinking?

As he peeled off the lycra in the backroom, his tip fell out. Sasori grabbed the cash, and shoved it straight in his wallet. It was weird to think once more of the art supplies that he had wanted so badly, that had caused him to find this job, to cross paths with this man, and he blinked, trying to reorientate himself. Putting the wallet back down, he peeled down the leotard further, and a shiny piece of card slipped free from his buttocks.

Sasori leant down and picked it up.

A business card.

He had a name and a number.

Sasori smiled.

He would see the man again.

He knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sasori takes the business card and finds his new "friend." They get their happy ending!


End file.
